Don't insult Azzurri
by Fekete
Summary: Italy's won against Ireland 2:0 and thanks to that they left the group. Spanish articles disagree, saying that Italy's on their debt, as it was all thanks to Spain's win against Croatia 1:0. Lovino is not amused. Spamano, Euro 2012 references, M rated because I'm paranoid.


**Fandom**: Axis Powers Hetalia

**Pairing**: Spamano, mentions of PruCan and slight GerIta

**Warnings**: BL, boy x boy, gay kissing, swearing, sex implied, Euro 2012 references, possible slight OCCness, there might be some grammar mistakes

**Disclaimer**: I do **not** own Hetalia, football players or Euro 2012, unfortunately. That's a pity, I'd love to have Lovino and Mario ;A;

**A/N**: I'd like to dedicate this fic to **SoledaDeMisPesares**, because I'm so happy ranting with you about Euro and all :'D.

* * *

_**Poznań, 18th June 2012**_

Thirty minutes before Italy's match against Ireland Lovino had to restrain himself from punching every single fucking person that he faced. He had had enough of people telling him that Italy's future in Euro was in Spain's hands.

"Ve~. Maybe you should call fratello Spagna and make sure he wins, fratello?" Feliciano looked at his brother with worried chocolate eyes. Lovino sighed with annoyance. Forty-seventh time. It was forty-seventh time when somebody's told him to _beg_ his boyfriend to win or told him that everyone was in Antonio's hands. For fuck's sake, _he knew that_. But there was no way he was going to beg someone, much less his stupid tomato eater of a lover.

"Stai zitto" oldest Vargas grumbled, glaring at his friend who was ready to say something as well. Arthur scoffed and looked at his older brother with annoyance. Scotland, who was sitting on Italy's bench instead of Ireland's, was singing some irritating songs. He was drunk as hell already, much to everyone's irritation.

"Belt up, Allistor! If you want to cheer for Michael go sit on his bench!" Scotsman ignored him and went back to his ballads and songs. Arthur was about to say something else, before he's noticed the look that Ivan was giving him. "What?"

"Ty smeshnoĭ. Become one with me, da?" Russia, who was in a bad mood since his lose against Greece, had been searching for strong nations with strong national teams who would like to join him. So far, Greece, Portugal, Germany, Netherlands, Spain, France and Italy has refused.

"Vodka bastard, shut up" Lovino hissed again, glaring at his cellphone and the message from Antonio. His younger brother looked at him with horror, as he could feel Russia's evil eyes on himself. Feliciano had always been worried about Lovino's choice of friends, and Antonio had been as well. For some reason, Southern Italian disliked Francis, Ludwig and Yong Soo, but got along just fine with Arthur, Ivan and Lukas. Feliciano, who was terrified of first two nations, and who found Norway too anti-social to get along with, was quite worried about his older brother.

"You still won't become one with me, tovarishch?"

"No" and something akin to a pout formed on Russian's lips. Feliciano had to blink. "Feli, Marcello, come on. We're going to see our stupid team" Lovino smirked and stood up.

**XxXxXx**

_**Gdańsk, 18th June 2012**_

Antonio pouted slightly, glancing at his phone from time to time. Lovino had been ignoring him for some time now, much to his annoyance. He didn't answer the phone calls nor did he message him back.

"Kesesesese, don't worry. Your little Italian boy toy's probably with his unawesome team or something. West and Feli aren't picking up their phones as well" Spain's frown deepened. If his friend was trying to cheer him up, he's failed. The fact that his _cariño_ was more than likely spending time with his team right now wasn't a good information. Especially since Romano liked everyone in his team very much. Lovino never liked people a lot and he didn't really smile at them. Well, Azzurri had this something that drew Spain's boyfriend in. And whatever it was, Antonio didn't like it. At all.

"Don't worry mon ami, I'm sure his teammates are taking good care of him" Francis said amused, looking at his furious friend with a smile. It was obvious that the Spaniard was pissed off and that the cause of this was a certain number nine in Italian team. It's funny how similar Mario and Lovino were. They were just as easy to piss off, just as hot-tempered and had this something in them.

"What do you mean, taking care of?" Antonio growled, his furious green eyes glaring at his friends. Prussia and France flinched, remembering that look quite well from their younger years. It was conquistador Spain that they all knew very well. It was the Spain that scared the fuck out of them.

"Aw, well, look at the bright side of this, man. If you win, you're probably going to get laid. He'd probably blow you willingly and maybe you'd get to go three rounds in a row. Sounds awesome, ja? When Birdie beat me 8 to 2 back in Vancouver he was so unawesomely happy and decided to make me happy too. Toni, man, it was one of the best nights ever. We've done four rounds" Francis looked at his friend in pure horror. Imagining his sweet, little Mathieu – who was like a brother or son to him – was just terrifying.

"Excusez-moi?" Antonio sighed, ignoring his friends who were quarreling once again. He's reassured his dearest Lovi that his team would do their best and win, however Romano didn't seem convinced for some reason.

"Te extraño, Lovi" he looked sadly at the TV in front of him, Spanish commentators talking about Italian team's chances instead of showing the players or, say, his little lover. "Ganaremos" he said, slightly happier and with confidence in his voice. He couldn't just tie with Croatia 2:2! Lovi would never speak with him again and that would be awful! He's also banned sex for a week now already! Wasn't that just so cruel? And what if Prussia was right? What if he won and Lovino would be so grateful and happy and they'd have the best night of their lives and maybe they'll somehow make a baby and Lovi would give birth to a beautiful twin girls who'd be just really, really cute and all smiley and-

"Toni, oy!" Spain blinked, looking at his friend with a dreamy smile

"¿Sí?"

"You're drooling"

"Oh" Francis and Gilbert exchanged the looks, before shaking their heads. Some lovestruck fools would never change. Especially if they were called Antonio Fernandez Carriedo.

**XxXxXxX**

Lovino, Marcello and Feliciano stood proudly next to Cesare Prandelli, observing the boys on the field. After they sang their anthem, with as much love as they could muster, each of them glanced at the people they got along with best. Northern Italian waved happily at Marchisio with a grin, giggling softly when midfielder waved back. Seborga grinned at Balzaretti. Thirty year old Italian showed him a thumb up before continuing his conversation with De Rossi. And finally Lovino, who had his silent glaring contest with Balotelli sitting right next to him. Just as the teams were getting ready to start the match, they smirked at each other and turned their heads, ready to watch the match carefully. And with that, one of two final matches of Group C had begun.

Saying that Lovino was irritated was understatement. Irish fans were amazing, yes, and their happy nature was admirable. However, they reminded Romano too much about his idiotic brothers and lover. They were way too happy, they were having way too much fun, and their singing was the most annoying thing ever.

"Will you shut the hell up? It's not even ten minutes into the match, dammit!" hot tempered Italian yelled angrily, smacking his younger brother in process, as he was singing along.

"Ow! That hurt, fratello! Why would they shut up anyway? They're singing is so beautiful! _Low lie the fields of Athenry~! Where once we watched the-_ ow! Fratello! Stop hitting me!" Lovino rolled his eyes, watching the game carefully, before he felt a slight poke on his shoulder. He ignored it at first, before it repeated.

"What?" he half-yelled, staring into Mario's mischievous eyes.

"20 euro Cassano scores in the first half" Lovino smirked

"20 euro on Pirlo" they shook hands, grinning under their noses. Prandelli raised his eyebrow and observed them carefully, not really sure whether it were the two of them that spoke just now. However when Balotelli leant in and whispered something into South Italy's ear, which caused the half-nation to laugh quietly, he felt something boil inside of him.

"Shut up, both of you! Observe the match!" as he turned around, he swore he could see them rolling their eyes. These two were his worst nightmare.

Feliciano, who was sitting on Lovino's left smiled softly, happy that his older brother was having fun. He had to tell Spain later!

**XxXxXxXx**

"No, no, nooo!" Romano yelled, as Given caught the ball Cassano shot. It could have been beautiful, but the Irish goalkeeper of course couldn't let it in. Well, at least they got a corner kick. Feliciano squeezed his eyes, mumbling something under his breath, most likely a prayer. They needed that goal. They had to make it. "Come on, Pirlo! You better make it good!" the yells got louder as Andrea situated himself in the corner, getting ready to kick the ball. The players from both teams gathered, ready to attack and defend. It was the thirty-fifth minute when Pirlo's ball hit Cassano's head and their first goal was made. Feliciano burst into tears, Marcello started jumping up and down and Lovino run to hug Antonio with all of his might.

"YES!"

"Grazie a Dio!"

"Sei fantastic, Cassano!"

"Viva Azzurri!" the emotions that Lovino felt at that moment were indescribable. The joy that flew in his veins, the amazement, the respect for the team members, the annoyance that it took them so damn long, more happiness. But most of all, pride. He was so fucking proud of them.

"Hai fatto bene, Cassano" Antonio turned around and smiled at him, trying not to show how happy those words made him. Being told something like that from his country was an amazing feeling.

"Qualsiasi cosa per te, Italia"

**XxXxXxX**

When Lovino returned to his sit, his younger brothers gave him a smirk. He furrowed his eyebrows, glaring at them challengingly.

"What?"

"Fratello Tonio will be so jealous when he sees you hugging other men, fratello~" Romano blushed before scowling and sitting down. There he felt a poke.

"The hell do you want you bast-"

"My 20 euro" Mario said with a smirk, gesturing to his hand. Marcello burst into laughter, only to be smacked by a certain annoyed coach. Lovino's eye twitched, before he took out the money and placed it at black-skinned man's hand angrily. Balotelli licked his lips and smirked "Grazie, mio caro amico"

"Vaffanculo"

**XxXXxXxX**

When the first half ended, Feliciano quickly skipped off to see his potato eater bastard of a lover, much to Lovino's annoyance. However, before eldest Vargas could stop the air-headed Italian from leaving, he felt his phone vibrating.

_**Incoming Call: Tomato Bastard**_

Romano bit his lip, before answering the phone call.

"Pronto?"

"_Lovi! Felicidades! Your team played really well in the first half_!" Lovino felt a small smile tug in the corner of his lips.

"Yeah. Well, your sucks."

"_That's so mean!"_ Italian could practically hear a pout in his love's voice. It was strange. Today was strange. He wanted to smile all the time today. It wasn't like him. Stupid team, brothers, friends and boyfriend, making him smile. Damn them all. "_Ne, ne, Lovi! I want to see you_"

"Wh-"

"_I really, really want to see you right now~. I miss my querido a lot! I want to kiss you lots too! And make love under the stars! And then, and then, Carmen and Rosa will be born! They will be our cute little daughters and you'll make a great mom. And I love you so much, Lovi! And-_"

"Shut up! Stupid tomato bastard" Lovino blushed tomato red, glaring at the ground. He could imagine Antonio's laughing face as his melodic laugh rang in his cell.

"_I'm telling the truth! Fernando says hi by the way! He thinks you're cute! Can I punch him_?"

"What? No! Why'd you punch him, you stupid idiot?"

"_Because, because, he's trying to flirt with you! And he's laughing at us right now_"

"You can punch him"

"_Yay~_!" there were few seconds of silence, followed by 'Oww! Que demonios, Tonio?'. Lovino facepalmed. The idiot really did it. "I'm back!"

"You are an idiot, tomato bastard"

"_Your idiot~"_ Lovino blushed again, cursing mentally that he couldn't punch the other "Are you blushing? Aww, you are, right? I'd love to see you blush! You look like a cute little tomato and-"

"Vaffanculo, bastardo!"

"_So meeean~. Ah, which reminds me! Loviiii! Don't you love me anymore?"_

"What?"

"_Don't cheat on meee! Stop hugging random people! Feli's told me everything!_" Southern Italian cursed at his brother, planning already hundreds of possible deaths for Feliciano. "_Do you still love meee? Loviii!_"

"Shut up! And no, dammit!" when he heard Antonio's sobbing on the other side – seriously, what the hell? The bastard was too old for that – he felt a slight pang of guilty. I mean, not really, but, well, yeah, kinda. "Fuck, stop it. Maybe I d-do, kinda"

"_Te amo también. Aww, I've got to go! The coach wants to yell at me. He's so mean! Well, see tonight, mi amor! Because you're not getting away this time~. I want to kiss you lots_!"

"Stop saying embarrassing stuff, bastard!" and with that Lovino disconnected, not blushing at all. Really. No blushes.

"Your boyfriend is made of rainbow" Lovino grabbed a stone that was lying next to him and threw it at laughing Balotelli.

**XxXxXxXx**

Italy's match had ended with 2:0, Mario scoring the second goal in 90th minute. Spain's match had ended with 1:0, Navas scoring two minutes before Balotelli. And with that, group C's winners were two western Mediterranean countries. Italy's game was amazing, incredible and definitely the reason for that team's pass, however Spain had a little to do with it as well. After all, thanks to la Roja who, instead of ending the match with a tie 2:2 had won 1:0, Azzurri could pass safely.

"Make it up to fratello Spain, Lovi~" Feliciano sang, clinging to Ludwig's arm with a smile. Trying to fight off the furious blush of his face as he entered black Bugatti 16.4 Veyron. He was supposed to get to Gniewino in five hours. If he played by rules, that is. If he was fast enough, he'd be at his boyfriends' hotel by 1 a.m. Antonio'll better be fucking grateful that Romano's going through all this shit for him when he could just celebrate with his team.

**XxXxXxX**

**Gniewino, 1:23 a.m.**

As Lovino parked his car and stepped outside, he was tackled to the ground with the speed of light. Before he could react to anything, his face was showered in kisses and tender touches.

"Mmmm, amor. Por fin"

"Wha- are you drunk, you stup-" Italian's words were cut off as Antonio's hot lips found his. It took a while for Lovino to respond, but when he had, the Spaniard deepened the kiss. Romano would lie if he said that he didn't miss his idiotic Spaniard.

"I'm not drunk Lovi~. I've just missed you a lot" Antonio mumbled, his lips ghosting over Lovino's slightly parted ones. His green eyes were hazy with lust, the look which caused Romano to shiver.

"Mmm. Hopeless romantic bastard" Lovino pecked his lover's lips quickly before pushing him away "Get up, dammit. I don't feel like lying on the ground" Spain laughed good-naturally and stood up, extending his hand to help Italian boy get up.

"Good match today, mi amor. That hijo de perra scored too, eh?" older boy pouted, turning his head away. Romano's eyebrows furrowed before realization struck him and he punched Antonio half-heartedly in the arm.

"Mario isn't a son of a bitch, bastard. Stop insulting my friends, dammit" Spain's lips formed a tight line, his hand squeezing Lovino's painfully. He quickened his pace to get to the room as soon as possible. When Romano stepped inside, the doors behind them shut with a click, Italian's back meeting the doors as Antonio quickly attacked his lips again. The kiss was somehow rougher and more passionate than the one outside. Not like Lovino minded or anything. Spain nibbled on younger boy's lower lip, extracting a moan from his little lover. When Romano finally parted his lips, Antonio's hot tongue quickly roamed around, trying to memorize his love for the nth time. Italian man fought for dominance for a few seconds before giving up, instead pulling the other even closer, deepening the kiss even more if possible.

"Mnnmh" Lovino moaned, as Antonio's fingers squeezed his hair curl "España-ah"

"Te amo, Lovi" Romano's legs found their way around Spain's waist, the two never breaking the kiss as Antonio slowly took his lover to a bad. He laid him gently, sucking Lovino's neck, getting more sweet moans from him. He could feel their erections brush together as he himself moaned too. It was a very promising night.

**XxXxXxX**

Beautiful, sunny day greeted Antonio in the morning. Spaniard looked at his side, only to notice a curled up Lovino next to him, their legs tangled together, bodies pressed tightly. He felt a smile tug in the corner of his lips, his hand brushing Romano's hair and cheek lovingly.

"Mnn" Lovino mumbled, pressing himself closer to Antonio. The Spaniard chuckled, kissing younger man's head lovingly. "Stooop it" hazel eyes glared at Spain tiredly.

"Did I wake you up, mi amor? Lo siento" Lovino grumbled something before sitting up.

"What time is it?" he asked, his voice hoarse from last night. Spain smirked, nibbling on the other's ear to annoy him. "Mnh, stop it, bastard" Antonio chuckled, adoring the blush covering his lover's cheeks.

"Ten, I guess" Lovino sighed, throwing his legs off the bed. He was about to stand up when an awful pain shot through his spine

"Ow! Dammit, bastard, I'm going to kill you! Couldn't you be a little bit gentler, dammit?"

"Mmm, but you asked me to go harder, amor" Antonio laughed after receiving a punch in the face. Lovino would never change. "And besides, I was angry. Because you're so close with that annoying number nine from your team and you hug him lots. It's really annoying, mi amor. So can you stop hanging out with him, please?" but when he's received a glare from the younger male, he knew it was impossible.

"Go fuck yourself" Antonio smirked at him lazily, his eyes glinting mischievously.

"Why would I do that? We've gone four rounds, I'm quite sadis- ow! Loviii! That hurt!"

**XxXxXxXx**

Romano glared at each member of Spain's national football team. They were grinning stupidly, making kissy faces and weird noises, snickering from time to time. Iniesta pulled Antonio over to the side and whispered something to him, which caused the nation to blush slightly, but nod enthusiastically nether less.

"Hola, Lovino. Mira!" Silva smirked, shoving laptop into Vargas' face. Lovino's eyebrows furrowed before he's noticed the title.

_**Italy's left the group thanks to Spain! They are on our debt now!**_

Romano quickly scanned the article, his annoyed aura slowly making its way out, before his eyes snapped at the Spanish man in front of him. Antonio looked at him with curious eyes, smiling brightly. Fucking, clueless bastard.

"What's wrong, queri-" the sentence was never finished, as Lovino's fist punched the Spaniard straight in the face. His furious hazel eyes glaring daggers at the older male lying on the floor, blood streaming from his nose.

"Ti ucciderò, bastardo" he hissed, his voice low and poisonous. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, Spanish football team shivered and felt a sudden pang of fright hit them.

That day everyone learnt a lot of things about South Italy. First, the reason why he got along very well with Russia and was 'fatherland' of mafia was obvious. He was just as frigging scary. Second, he was much stronger and braver than he appeared. Third, insulting his national football team was similar to a death wish and ended with awful results.

Spain and his team were never quite as terrified as that day, and Lovino's never been as motivated as to ignore his Spanish boyfriend, his blood thirst reaching the maximum level.

_Never, absolutely never insult Italian national football team in front of Lovino Romano Vargas, as it will end tragically._

**xXxXxXx**

-**_Translations_**-

Stai zitto – It. "shut up"

Ty smeshnoĭ - Ты смешной, Rus. 'You're funny'

Tovarishch – товарищ, Rus. 'Comrade'

Cariño – Sp. 'darling'

Te extraño – Sp. 'I miss you'

Ganaremos – Sp. 'We'll win'

Grazie a Dio! – It. 'Thank God'

Sei fantastic, Cassano! – It. 'You're fantastic, Cassano!'

Hai fatto bene, Cassano – It. 'You've done well, Cassano'

Qualsiasi cosa per te, Italia – It. 'Anything for you, Italy'

Vaffanculo – It. 'Fuck you'

Grazie, mio caro amico – It. 'Thanks, my dear friend'

Pronto – It. 'Yes/Hello?' (I heard that's what Italians say when they pick up their phones. I might be wrong though, so if I am, please excuse me)

Felicidades – Sp. 'congratulations'

Querido – Sp. 'dear'

Que demonios, Tonio? – Sp. 'What the hell, Tonio?'

Te amo también – Sp. 'I love you too'

Por fin – Sp. 'Finally'

Hijo de perra – Sp. 'Son of a bitch'

Lo siento – Sp. 'I'm sorry'

Ti ucciderò, bastardo – It. 'I'll kill you, bastard'

-**_Information_**-

_Allistor Kirkland _– Scotland

_Michael Connelly_ – Ireland; his first name, Michael, comes from Michael Collins - Irish leader in the Civil war against England and founding member of the IRA; his last name, Conelly, comes from James Connelly - Key figure in the 1916 Easter Rising.

Marcello Vargas – Principality of Seborga

Lukas Bondevik – Norway

La Furia Roja – Sp. 'The Red Fury', it's how Spanish national football team is called

Azzurri – It. 'The Blues', it's how Italian national football team is called

February 23rd, 2010 – Canada, Vancouver 2010, Canadian team beat German team in men's ice hockey 8:2

'_Low lie the fields of Athenry'_ is a fragment of '_Fields of Athenry'_ that the Irish football fans were singing during Ireland's matches.

Spain-Croatia ending result 2:2 – if during Spain's match with Croatia the ending result were 2:2, the passing teams from group C would be Spain and Croatia, Italy wouldn't pass even if they won with Ireland

Bugatti 16.4 Veyron – one of the fastest and expensive cars

Gniewino (in Poland) – near Gdańsk ( Poland); Spain's base for Euro 2012

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**A/N: Oh my God, thanks for reading xD. I'm so sorry if the information were too long :p. This fic didn't really turn out like I wanted it to, but oh well. I hope you've enjoyed it anyway. The idea was born during my talk with **_**SoledaDeMisPesares.**_** She's told me about Spanish article, that stated that 'Italy's passed thanks to Spain'. Currently I'm writing (my last, I swear!) next fic about Euro, the finals. I'm going to make Toni regret that awful score :I. I love Spain and some part of me was happy that he's won, but I was rooting for Italy. Dang. So Tonio shall suffer. A lot. Yes. Anyway, thank you for reading and if anyone's read that rant of mine too, wow, thanks so much! Have a nice day~ :3**


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